My Silence
by Nalana
Summary: Hephaistion reflects as he watches wordlessly at an evening celebration. Thoughts, memories, hopes, longings. They're all a matted web. Rated T for more poetically put suggestive theme.


Disclaimer: Do you really think I own any rights? Nwope. Not a one!

A/N: In this, some Greek gods/places of myth are use. For those of ye who aren't familar or it's been a while:  
Zeus: The leader of the gods, king of Olympus, thunder.

Terpsichore: On of the muses, Dance

Dionysus: God of Festivities, wine, fertility (?)

Acheron: River of the Dead

Charon: The ferryman of Acheron who souls would pay to take them across to the Underworld, or else they would wander the banks of the river. (Some say for a hundred years, some say eternity)  
Daedalus: And inventor who was placed with his son in an impossible maze. He crafted two sets of wings, one for himself and one for his son, to fly over the hedges.

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I watch him as he looks tigerishly at her. A tiger, those magnificent beasts from one of the lands he has conquered is the best of the gods' creations to define him. Rough. Bold. Hungry. Ever regal. He stares at her, his ever-scrupulous Queen, who he will go to this evening to sate his drought. And so he must. This I accepted long ago.

He is a king. His duties lie not only in politics and the battlefield, but in his bed as well. Until he can hold his son up to Zeus for the blessing of what some may say would be the babe's grandsire, so must it be. After that time he must be dutiful as well as is the promise to his country, ancestors, and to his wife.

Roxane; a woman of fortitude. She is lovely in a way. Her foreign attributes are bound to be appealing to anyone with warm blood. Far more honest is her life and ways than many others I know have kept his side warm on those nights we have traveled be them man or woman. In a way, this lovely enchantress blessed by Terpsichore's beat and swept up by Dionysus as if she were to be a feature in his entertainments, saved my own heart. As feeble as our mortal centers may be, to see him take one wife for the reasons of state and not for a single spark of want would crush if a thousand times more. It would be wrung and strangled until only pulp could be drained.

I would give no false answer to anyone who inquired. I am jealous of her despite what I know. For all that emotion, I cannot spite her. She loathes me.

Never would she say such a thing to him or any other so directly. But her gaze screams volumes. Her eyes will never rest on me less they are as poisonous as the snakes his Majesty's mother holds in such high esteem. Roxane cannot erase from her thoughts the memory of that night that seems like decades ago. I find no blame in her for that either.

A great journey in a woman's life is to be joined to her husband. It is, indeed, what they are groomed for. For one deprived of stature as well as birth in our country to become a Queen never would have been thought of. To be the first wife to a man of his caliber is beyond any tale that could have previously been spun. That glorious day should have by all rights been the one where she may care of nothing, dream of nothing, but the infinite future that lay at her feet. Her children would be the heirs and regents to the greatest civilization ever combined. But these wistful thoughts were snatched from her with my own pathetic narcissism.

I had been watching in the crowds as you proclaimed your union with her. I stood in your shadow, obediently, as I always had. I had not bit my lip. I did not flinch. And I would not think of shedding a tear that would dilute the barriers we had so carefully constructed over the years when under the watchful eyes of your underlings. We had built a barrier, agreeing never to get in so deep because of the occasion that was upon us. To do so would be to willingly fall into Acheron without coin for Charon. In such a state of calm I remained until I could slip away during the feasting.

I retired to the shelter that I had been calling mine. When the flap settled down, my shoulders slumped in defeat, beginning to shake slightly. So I sat there for several minutes, perhaps an hour, I do not know. Time was lost to me. At last I raised my head and my spirits. I strode over to my own bedside and removed a delicately wrapped object from a small gilded container.

Clutching onto the ornament within my fist, I flew to the formation that I knew to be your destination on this night. In my rush, I did not see anyone who would have thought my movements suspicious. I could not hear any whispers if there were any. Only the organ that lay in my chest and my mind's combined rhapsody could emerge into clarity.

The events that followed would seal the fate of my interaction with your female counterpart. I should have known better then to embrace you at such a time when the chance of being caught was so great. Surely enough Roxane had screamed out in anger against us while in the privacy of your tent. It was then that it had hit me of how gluttonous I had been. And yet, a corrupt part of me rejoiced.

You did not know it, but I had lingered in the darkness for a bit. I had stayed, for whatever reason I do not know. My feet were frozen until I heard the ringing of metal colliding with metal. My token...discarded...by her wrath, just as my love had been for hers.

But even as my gaze lingers on you now, even in this very moment, I know you are not completely lost on me. For on your most sacred finger lays that golden-detailed bloodstone. A token of your love for your Queen, your subjects say. I know otherwise. It is my promise to you, my own oath before the Gods. Even if I too must be duty-bound to wed one, my being will never belong to them.

Most of those closest to you have their suspicions. Even though you have not come to me, or I to you, since your wedding they still see the discord that has been left in the wake. Still none of them would ever say word against it, not even brazen Cassander, for fear of your fury and denial. None of them would dare, with the exception of that alien beauty.

Roxane stands and departs from the celebrations. Her fleeting smile and modest glance at you brings a smirk to your face. It pleases you. Your men around you laugh duplicitously and exchange mutters and nudges.

"Don't worry Hephaistion! There's enough of King Alexander to go around." I hear a snide voice accompany an unwelcome arm that envelops my waist. " ...As so many know."

The words of the stranger make a low growl rise within my throat as I sling the figure off me. Anger courses throughout me as I draw my sword to the other man's throat. I will not hear his vile remark.

"Would you be so bold to mutter such putrid words in front of his Majesty?" I hiss towards him. I have said they would not suggest such a thing in his presence. In mine... They have no love for me. " I think not."

" Such unpalatable mongering is for gossips and traitors! Which are you!" My levitated volume has made even drunken heads turn towards us. A firm grip, a warning from a friend, rests on my shoulder. I know the person behind me is right. I do no justice or good by slaying or accusing a man whose tongue is slathered with the drink.

Dropping my sword arm and sheathing my weapon I lower my eyes. Mumbling a soon-to-be forgotten apology I saunter away from the crowds and fire light. Enough attention and pondering is enough for this one night.

I am grateful to rid myself of my sweat-stained robes and to slip into the comfort of the furs that surrounded my bedroll. The tent was already dim, much to my liking. I did not waste what we had to fuel illumination. Nor did I accept any other comfort that gladly would have been permitted to me if I were to inquire of it. I was not royalty. Privileged, yes.

Mercifully, my eyelids became laden. I had no wish to have my thoughts linger any more on the past, as they surely would have. All I wished for was to drift off into sleep. For in dreams, there was nothing but present time.

Just as I had begun to slip into that blissful world, something jolted me from my rest. A quick breeze was replaced by warmth. A hand crept across my ribs and planted itself lightly against my stomach, nudging me backwards. Unquestioning I answered to that request, leaning back against the figure that had disrupted my solitude. I did not lash out as I had by the man in the streets. No. This touch I recognized.

"You were quite defensive." I heard a whisper trickled into my ear. "You really should have walked away. I forgive you either way. But I fear that too much of me has rubbed of on you to let your emotion blaze so fiercely." It was all I could do not to mewl in surrender to the strength leant to me in that instant.

I rolled my head back until it rested between my pillow and his shoulder, sighing as his hand creeps back and soothed my tense back as I used to do for him. That same set of lips that had whispered to me found their way to my exposed neck and found solace there as the fingers continued their tantalizing. I opened my mouth to question, but was answered before a sound could be emulated.

"You jest if you think I could leave you for so long. Already it has been ages since I've sought your presence. An age too long for my liking."

In a sweep of bravery, I rolled over to face the man who so many looked upon with admiration or spite. His features were rougher than in the days when we thought our stolen nights were simply convenient outlets for such energies. But it didn't matter. I brushed my own fingers across the stubble that was growing, across the wrinkles and his brow. He is still handsome, still earnest. At least, he's earnest to me.

"She will not be pleased." I hear myself croak as I settle my thumb on his lower lip. My own upper lip hovers dangerously close to it.

For a moment, I see doubt flicker in his eyes. It is soon erased. My hand is pushed aside and the distance erased between us. I will not question further. I dare not. If I do, I would waken from this regained moment.

The temperature that is steady outside the tanned flaps of this space rises within. Silently I let his arms swallow me, welcoming me back into his graces. He knows me too well. He knows every tender spot, every secret place and how to caress them just right. Those he did not know, or had forgotten in his absence were soon found thanks to his vigilance.

Lost in a maze of heat and passion we race. His breath is all over me, and nowhere. His molten fingers rush over my skin. In a false attempt to keep my composure, I try to respond as any good lover would, to repay him for the sensations I relish. Hades damn me, I can hear him laughing at my state.

He murmurs something into my ear that I can barely place together, a message letting me know that it's all right to simply let go. It was his wish to make me blubber like an inexperienced boy. I. Don't. Care. For once, I do not scold myself for thinking so weakly. In his grasp, I feel godly.

He worships me. His lips move in prayer against my flushed flesh. His calloused and battle-worn hands make their pilgrimage along me. Together we soar up to the skies on wings crafted by Daedalus himself. We become lost in the night's breeze, and the stars enveloping blanket.

When at last we float gracefully back down to earth, my loneliness has dissipated. He holds me close to him, our hands intertwined. I roll the ring on his left hand around, caressing the jewel and the finger alike. It comforts my mind, reminding me that he is mine again, if only for a moment here and there. My Achilles. That he will always be.


End file.
